


A Little Slice of Heaven

by Ginger Jam (skylite), skylite



Series: Day of Judgement [2]
Category: DC Universe
Genre: Canon Disabled Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylite/pseuds/Ginger%20Jam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylite/pseuds/skylite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly dying in the No Man's Land of post-quake Gotham, Nightwing recouperates in the home of someone who makes it very difficult to consider going out and fighting crime...demons...even his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Slice of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> All characters in this story are © 2000 DC Comics, all rights reserved. They are used without permission, for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made by Indigo for this story. No infringement upon nor challenge to the rights of the copyright holders is intended; nor should any be inferred. This story may not be reproduced without permission from the author.
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Nute, Frito, Falstaff, Twiller for beta reading.
> 
>  
> 
> TIMEFRAME: Just after the NO MAN'S LAND thing (Gotham's Earthquake) and at the beginning of the DAY OF JUDGEMENT thing (Hell on earth, literally)

DAY OF JUDGEMENT:

A Little Slice of Heaven

I joked...I quipped...with what felt like it was going to be my last breath. The fever was eating me alive, and my vision was blurring. The image of her face was swimming before my eyes, but I had to still keep up the facade. A holdover, I suppose, from my Robin days, when I was the smart-ass Boy Punster.

If I hadn't passed out in a puddle of slime, blood and saltwater on her floor, she probably would've gone upside my head with her stick. Never let it be said that Babs is helpless, even if she is confined to a wheelchair. She had the option -- and still does -- to have surgery to change that. She chose to remain where she is, and take the consequences of her actions.

And me? I crawled out of the stinking hellhole Blackgate had become, at the bidding of my oldest, dearest, friend and mentor...and came here. To Gotham Heights. To Babs.

And passed out on her floor.

I'm lucky she's sweet-natured. If I'd gone to Bruce, I'd have been hoisted to my feet, told to suck it up, and then set in front of a medkit to bandage my own wounds.

I was in bad shape. Really bad shape. Acrobatics and bravado aside, I know if not for Babs and her ministrations, I'd have died. Simple as that. I saw my parents beckoning me into the light. It was tough to tell them no. But there's still so much...too much to do. I couldn't leave my other family to handle it all. I couldn't abandon the war, leaving that kind of hole in the ranks. So I went from almost-dead to only mostly dead. I wonder if Babs has a chocolate coated pill in her bag of tricks.

* * * * *  
I woke on her sofa, in a pair of old sweatpants, an all-weather-blanket-insert wrapped around me. God knows how she wrestled my 175 pounds of dead (and probably extremely stinky) weight from her balcony, through her dining room, to her living room...God only knows how she got my uniform off me, let alone onto the sofa. She's a strong woman, but she never ceases to amaze me.

* * * * *  
I ache all over, but my face is bandaged. My broken ribs. My arm. She's even washed my hair. How long have I been out?! By now, no doubt he knows I was successful taking back Blackgate. I hope Tim got what he was sent for as well. I wish I could summon the strength to stand, nevermind leaping into the night, braving the closed, clammy darkness and checking personally. The kid's bright, and he's sharp. But if I got knocked for this kind of loop, I can only imagine what kind of hell Tim's facing in the sewers.

* * * * *  
I've a fever; I can feel it. My body shivers even under the warmth Babs has provided. My vision blurs, and occasionally I hallucinate. Kory looks really ridiculous in the KGBeast's outfit. Wally looks even more laughable in Batman's cape. I know it's my workaholic sense of reason telling me to get off my lazy ass and go with the Titans. I know I want to follow its urgings. I also know that I feel warm and safe here for the first time in memory, and I don't want to leave. Is that why I haven't even tried to get up to go to the bathroom? She spared me the ignominy of having to use a bedpan. I will, eventually, have to answer that call of nature. Once I get rehydrated.

***  
I haven't seen her once since I staggered in. I know she's here, though. I can hear the stacatto tappity-tap-tap of her fingers on that ergonomic keyboard. I can occasionally hear her whisper and curse into her head mike. But she's keeping her tones low, her voice soft. So as not to disturb me. She's not an Oracle. She's an angel.

* * * * *  
Raven?

I must be hallucinating again; I haven't seen Raven since we got Vic back. It's so hard to hold myself awake.

* * * * *  
It's night again. Or still? My time sense is all distorted. How long have I been asleep?

God, I'm STARVING.

And I have got to go! That's a good sign, then. Let's see if my legs will hold me up. Time to get moving, Grayson, the world won't wait for you forever.

WHOA!

Ooookay. The spirit's willing but the flesh is just not up for it yet. I make a grab for the sofa, but my sick body isn't having any of it. I go down with a loud thunk and a crash, hoping I didn't break anything important.

"Dick?"

"Yeah," I call, sheepishly. "I'm awake. I think."

"About time. I was about to call Leslie."

Oh, God, if she was ready to call Leslie, she must've been worried. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days," Babs says, as matter of factly as telling me what the weather's like. But I know better. She was worried. Bless her.

I marshal my strength, make it to the bathroom, answer the call of nature, then stagger into her computer room. "Hey."

She turns to look at me and I can tell she's had no sleep. Her usually lustrous auburn hair hangs in limp strands to her shoulders, and her coffee cup sits at her elbow, forgotten and cold. I was beginning to think the Grayson charm had abandoned me that I didn't wake to her gentle ministrations. But something's going down. Something serious. "What is it?" I place a hand on her shoulder and can feel her trembling through her Gotham Knights sweatshirt. It was a gift from me, and strangely I find that comforting right now.

"Hell has frozen over," Babs says in response, and I almost laugh. I catch myself, though, because I can see that expression on her face, reflected in her monitor screen. She's not kidding.

I turn to head back to the living room, my mended uniform. Her firm hand at my elbow holds me fast. I could drag her away from her computer if I tried. But I don't. She looks up at me and shakes her head. "You're sick, Dick. And let me say again, Hell. Has frozen. Over. LITERALLY. This is out of your sphere. Go back and lie down."

After staring at her in dumbfounded silence for a full minute (Hell has frozen over, literally?!), I bend and kiss Babs on the forehead. "You're right, though I'll deny admitting it when I'm well again."

She laughs and kisses my chin. "Go back to bed. Soon as I can catch a break, I'll make you some soup."

"How's Bruce doing?" I ask, lingering.

"Mr. Intense?" Babs chuckles. "There are demons in the streets and he's being as calm and collected as ever. Me, I'd be a nervous wreck. Superman got turned into a pillar of salt!"

I suddenly feel my head swim again, and I nod, slowly. Oh yeah, this is way out of my sphere, I think in the safety of my own skull. You can't fight demons with escrima.

I fall asleep again on the sofa, and wake to the aroma of chicken soup. "Open up the hangar, here comes the airplane!" Green eyes twinkle playfully behind those glasses and I realize how beautiful she is, despite being sleep deprived and spending her time nursing me back to health.

Obediently, I open my mouth and eat chicken soup. I think it's the TLC rather than the noodles that makes it go down my raw, sore throat as easily as this.

Hell may be freezing over, but for the moment, I am gonna be selfish and properly appreciate my little slice of heaven.


End file.
